Normans Log
by Moxiemiss1313
Summary: (AU) Norman is thrown into a new, more dangerous world. To cope with his situation, he starts writing in a journal. Join him as he encounters all of the horrors of the zombie apocalypse, all while trying to keep it together.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Hi, I'm Moxie. I've traversed this site for about 3 and ½ years now, but this is my first-ever fanfiction published on here. I really hope you like it, and please feel free to review.

By the way, I don't say what year it is; just know that Norman is indeed 11 in this story.

The world is gone, and so is civilization. I have to face that fact. It's been taken over by these…things. These crazy, undead things that used to be people but will eat you alive without a second thought or a first thought for that matter.

No one was ready when it happened, and I've yet to meet someone who wasn't scattered when the outbreak shook the world a few weeks ago. As for me, yeah, I'm scared out of my wits. I was with my family visiting relatives in Georgia when it happened. We managed to do OK in my cousins house for the first week, but then his neighborhood got overrun with Walkers (the name of the undead monsters) and we got separated from each other. I managed to evade them somehow and hopped a ride on one of the many cars speeding out that were taking any and all people they could. When it comes to my family…..I have no idea if they got out or no. Whether they're safe or…..I don't want to think about that.

I never got along with them, but to think that they went through such a horrible fate makes me break and try to piece together my heart, as well as my sanity. This is why I've started to write things down in this journal; to attempt to keep myself sane, even when things get bad, or when they get inevitably worse.

Trying to keep myself off of…that I started observing that there are a lot more ghosts since it happened; many of them victims of Walkers, or the ghosts of former Walkers. From what I can tell, when you turn you can't become a ghost until someone kills your undead form. Once they do, you either pass on or become of the many spirits I've seen lately. Some select few retain their appearance from when they were alive, but most stay in their walker form, except now they have the ability to speak. I have actually talked to more than a few of them and it's very fascinating to hear about what it's like being a Walker. Evidently you can still move and hear, but all of your memories, interests, and the all of the things that make you human are gone. You don't have any thoughts at all, you're just stumbling along until your instincts tell you to kill and eat any living thing you come across.

Oh, and I found out early on that I can actually understand Walkers. To a normal person, they will only hear one growl, moan, or hiss. But to me, I hear one single word: hungry. That word is more than enough to keep me petrified basically 24/7, since I hear it all the time, in every place I go, in the most bone chilling fashion imaginable. As if being thrown into this new, dangerous world wasn't bad enough.

I've been on my own for about 2 weeks now. At least I think so. It's getting harder to keep track of the days. At first, when I got out of that neighborhood with the other people, I was so shook up that I barely registered that the driver was telling all of us he was planning on heading towards Atlanta. When I asked why, he said he had heard rumors about it being a safe zone.

Normally, I would've raised my eyebrow at such a statement. Why would such a large city, packed to the brim with people, be safe during an outbreak? However, I was so mentally drained and scared that I ignored my suspicions and kept my mouth shut. It had to get better, right? After all that craziness getting out of the neighborhood? It seemed that way….for about 5 minutes.

I have no idea what happened with the driver, either he saw something scary, was too invested in his thoughts, or was still riled up from the events taken place (or all three). Because the next thing I knew, the car smashed sideways into several trees. I'm not sure exactly what happened. First I heard a scream, and then I remember getting jerked around. I think I blacked out for a bit because I remember opening my eyes to see that I was strewn about the forest floor, the car smashed and slightly on fire beside me. I seemed to be fine, nothing more than some scrapes and bruises (with some slight head trauma dashed in), but as for the people I was with…what I saw made my blood turn to ice. All I needed to see were the ghosts hovering above the corpses to make me grab my backpack and run as fast as I could.

I ran for God knows how long before stopping to catch my breath. By then it was getting close to nighttime and I realized I needed shelter. I saw a sign up ahead that advertised a gas station several miles down the road. I walked until my legs felt like they were about to fall off to the small store. The place was thankfully abandoned and I even managed to find some provisions to last me at least a few days.

When I finally settled down into the break room of the shop, I let the true gravity of the situation settle in, and did something I rarely ever do: I cried. I cried for my family, I cried for those innocent neighbors, I cried for the people who let me ride with them, I cried for every ghost forced to be a Walker, I cried for myself. I cried because the world was gone, and so was everyone I knew. For the first time I wished I wasn't alone.

My tears ran out after an hour. I sniffed and looked out at the decrepit gas station, the sounds of ever-present Walkers lacing the air. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and closed my eyes tightly, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

That was several weeks ago. Right now, I'm walking my way towards Atlanta, praying I find that supposed safe zone. I've been trying to reach it since the day after the incident. Every day I usually stop for a few hours to sleep and find new supplies, maybe with a few ghosts, but for the most part all I do is walk till I can't feel my legs. The only thing that breaks these up is Walker encounters, which I've thankfully managed to avoid. But there have been a few close calls with several of them very nearly biting me or ripping out my throat. I was smart enough to grab a weapon early one; a crowbar I found abandoned in the street. I'm not good with it, but it's enough to keep me alive (so far).

I haven't met many other survivors. I see a sign of them, with car's driving down the road and occasionally one or two might happen to be in the same place I am scrounging for supplies. That's about it honestly.

I don't know if I can handle being in a group right now, I still have my reservations about the living. There is a voice in the back of my head saying I'll only survive so long without other people watching my back. Annoying as it is, the voice is probably right. Still, I figure getting to Atlanta is more important right now.

Even if I know the city being safe is most likely not true, I still have to focus on something. Something to strive for, something to live for.

Hope I make it there in one piece, signing off-

Norman


	2. Thank You

(3 days later)

I'm almost to Atlanta now, just a few more miles to go. I'm both nervous and excited to get there. Whether it's a safe zone or not, I know it's going to change how I've been surviving. Should I continue what I've been doing for, what, 3 weeks now? Moving from place to place, never settling down for more than a day or so? Or should I actually find a group to be in? Neither of these choices is settling well with me, and this is starting to make my head ache and stomach turn whenever I think about them.

I forgot to mention in my last post that since traveling, I've met several interesting new ghosts. It seems the closer I get to Atlanta, the more fascinating they get. As most of them were nice, and had many stories to tell, but most weren't very distinctive (not to say I didn't like them; truth be told I like all ghosts). However, I have met a few that were filled with so much personality that they almost remind me of the ones…back…home-

Any….way, a couple of days ago I came across a small strip mall across from a town that looked eerily abandoned (not unlike most places I have come across). It consisted of a thrift shop, a Chinese take-out place, and a bookstore. After finding a smaller backpack (and two walkers) at the thrift shop, I decided to check out the bookstore for curiosity's sake. There I found dozens of dusty old books, and a female ghost named Melody.

Melody was one of the more normal looking ones I've seen in my time, looking almost exactly as she did when she was alive, baring the huge bloody gunshot wound in her chest. She had long, wavy blonde hair and bright green eyes. She had on a simple light pink dress adorned with bits of silver glitter. She also looked pretty young, not much older than 20 or 21 when she died.

When I saw her, I couldn't help but say hi. Melody looked back at me with surprise and I told her about my ability. She was ecstatic; she had never met anyone who could talk to the dead before. I asked if she needed my help, and she said that all she wanted was to talk. And so we did, for about 3 hours.

Melody explained that it had been about 10 years since she had died. Back when she was alive, she was a simple college student trying to run a bookstore she inherited from her relative. She always loved coming there as a kid and reading all kinds of stories, especially ones about romance. Melody was a sweet, hopeless romantic at heart, and even wrote many poems and tales about people going through the difficult yet rewarding process of being in love (her words not mine).

She felt it was kind of poetic that the very day she died was on Valentine's Day. See, Melody had lived above the bookstore in her deceased Aunts apartment. That night, she was going on a date with a man named Kenny; a longtime friend of hers who she had been dating since high school. After she got ready she remembered that she forgot to take out the trash that had been piling up. So, she ran downstairs and into the alley where her trash bins were located. Then out of nowhere a mugger showed up behind her and pulled her in, demanding she give him her money. Melody had tried to explain that she didn't have any on her, but this just made him mad. She attempted to wiggle out of his grip as she told him she was going to go get him his money. He let her go, only to turn her around and shoot her point-blank in the heart.

Since then Melody has haunted her bookstore, her heart eternally aching. Evidently she made an effort to keep a positive attitude, much like she did when she was alive. She felt it hard to do so as she eventually saw her beloved boyfriend move on to another girl. On the night she died, Melody had hoped he would propose to her.

Given the bad circumstances of her cruel and tragic death, she actually seemed rather pleasant. Many ghosts I talk to who were murdered have a pessimistic attitude, but other than being sad that she had to see someone she loved move on, and the understandable pain she felt having her life cut short when she was considerably young, Melody was a very kind and positive person. She had such an enthusiasm for the people and things around her, as well as a warmth to her that made disliking her nearly impossible.

I would've stayed longer to talk to her, but I had already lost a lot of footing. I told her I needed to go and she smiled, thanking me for being so helpful. I said my goodbyes and carried on with my journey. Just in time too, because I could've sworn I heard the sounds of Walkers getting closer.

Talking to Melody was really therapeutic. I got so lost in her story that I felt like I was really there with her, experiencing it all. In hindsight, this could have easily gotten me killed. But I hadn't allowed myself to truly take in something like that since this whole mess started, which I'm a little ashamed of. Before, listening to ghosts and getting wrapped up in what they said was one of my favorite things to do. Now, unless it's something important that has to do with my survival, I feel like I don't pay attention as much as I should.

Seeing the smile on Melody's face as I really got invested in talking to her reminded me that even though the world is gone, it doesn't mean I have to entirely stop doing what I love. I'm a medium, and I still have a responsibility of helping the dead in any way I can. My survival may be important, but I can't just up and give up something so vital to who I am.

Speaking to the dead helped me before in so many ways, and it still does now. Just replace bullies, parents, and prejudice with the end of the world and man-eating monsters and it still does the same job. It's certainly helped me get my mind off of Atlanta.

Hey, maybe if there really is no safe zone I can just go back and live with Melody in her bookstore. I'm sure some of the Walkers will have cleared out by now.

Wishful thinking? Yeah, but it's the only backup plan I've managed to come up with that hasn't made my stomach ache in anxiety.

With a renewed sense of responsibility and seeing Atlanta on the horizon, I'm marching on. Hopefully towards somewhere safe, somewhere secure.

If not, then I don't know. Signing off-

Norman.


	3. Decisions

Authors Note: Hey, Moxie here again. I just want to give you guys a couple of heads up for what's to come.

I will not be updating as quickly as have been. I currently have tough semester of school ahead of me that will take up a lot of my time. As well as some other very big things that will happen in my life in the next few months. This will mean chapters will take longer to write and get up for your eyes to enjoy. I'm sorry, and I will try to update as fast I can.

One other thing I wanted to mention is the story from the next chapter on will be much more eventful than the past two chapters. The next one is where we get into what I consider the main center plot of the story, the real meat of it. I'm not spoiling anything here, but if you know anything about the world Norman is now in, you've probably already guessed where it's going.

That's all for updates. Hope you like the chapter, and please remember to comment and/or fav below. Enjoy!

Next post (4 days later)

So, Atlanta's a bust. I knew this was coming, but it's still disappointing to see that the city was about as safe as a shark-filled moat. I….I really wish I wasn't right on this. That maybe for once my optimistic side would rule out over my logical side. But, no, the second I saw all those abandoned cars on the way out of the city, it was pretty much spelled out that it wasn't safe.

In spite of this, I've actually been on the outskirts for about 2 days now. Since the closest habitable place is a several hour walk from here, and I'm low on supplies, I figured camping out a far enough distance wouldn't be too bad an idea. Besides, I need a break longer than half a day to get my energy back. Turns out traveling for 13 hours straight each day can take a lot out of you.

I found a decrepit gas station about ¼ a mile outside of Atlanta's gates. It looks like one I've seen in a million different horror movies: faulty lighting, busted windows, and glass coating most of the floor. Yet it's the best looking one out of all the stores around here (actually 2nd best, but this one had some supplies) so that's where I've been living.

Now that I'm here, I'm basically forced to think about what's next. Logically, I know I can't continue hopping from place to place. It just takes way too much out of me and the only reason I've managed to do it for as long as I did was because I had a place to find, a goal to reach. That leaves me with only one plausible choice, the one I've been dreading; I need to find a group.

Oh dear god I really wish I had another option. I know I can't survive much longer on my own; I'm just a kid who got lucky early on in the apocalypse. It's only a matter of time before my luck runs out and I turn into Walker food.

Am I ready to interact with the living? I don't think so. My trust in them is still wary at best. I have too many stories that explain my…..let's call it distaste for those who have a pulse.

I remember one time in the winter. I was on a walk and I passed the park near my house. A bunch of kids and several adults were having a snowball fight next to the jungle gym. I smiled a bit as I passed before looking onward towards the sidewalk. Suddenly, I was knocked backward on the cold, icy ground, as a particularly heavy snowball (though it felt more like an ice chunk) nailed me in the eye. When I forced myself up I realized two things: I could barely see out of the eye that was hit, and it was leaking bright crimson blood that was staining the snow. Covering it with one of my gloved hands, I tilted my remaining vision to the field, where I could see several kids snickering and some adults shaking their heads at me.

It took more than a week for me to get my vision back to normal. It took even longer for the bruise around my eye to heal.

I can't help but remember the first (and only) time I got into a fight. That was one of the worst experiences I've had with a living person. It happened during recess about a year ago. I was talking to Salver (a ghost who died when he committed suicide) behind the bleachers. Evidently Alvin had been listening to my side of the conversation and wanted to know who I was talking to. I told him who Salver was, including his death and the fact that he was a close friend of mine. He laughed, asking if I was just getting tips on how to 'off myself.' I was offended but I ignored him, hoping he'd go away. He didn't. Instead, Alvin continued jeering me on, saying that "everyone would be happier without you and your crazy freak show antics." Then, he pushed it too far by saying that if he was me he would 'take my friends advice and make the world a better place. My fist connected with his jaw shortly after this.

I'd like to think of myself as pretty passive, but that incident still makes me boil with rage.

I have countless stories like those; examples where the living have acted nothing but cruel, unfair, and downright malicious towards me.

Still…I know not all living people are bad per se. I've actually known some good ones before. Like Neil; who always tried to make friends with me no matter how much I refused. Admittedly, he had a cheery and optimistic demeanor to him which I really liked. His buddy, Salma, was also not too bad. She was a huge know-it-all, yeah, but she wasn't unpleasant and did try to help others with their homework a lot.

Looking back, I kind of wish I decided to join their little group. It would've made school much more bearable knowing I had at least two people on my side. Well, ones that could be seen anyway.

I feel guilty for denying Neil so much; I mean he had good intentions. I guess I was just in denial that anyone would actually want to be my friend. I wish I could go back and tell myself to try hanging out with him, to give him a chance.

Who knows, maybe I could've introduced him to some of the ghosts around town. He did always seem curious about my ability. I'm not so sure about Salma, since she was so scientific and brought logic into everything. Maybe she would set aside that attempt to get into it, if only to not upset Neil.

In thinking about them and realizing how much I regret not giving them a chance, I think I might be ready to join a group. While I don't trust the living entirely, they can't all be bad. Somewhere, in this desolate wasteland we now call the world, there are good people; people who perhaps wouldn't mind having a quiet, resourceful kid who speaks to the dead in their group. I can't say I'd adjust easily to it, after what I've gone through. It would take some time. I think it would be worth it if I actually found a nice group of survivors, ones I'd learn to trust.

For now, I believe staying in Atlanta and getting my bearings together is a good idea. Once I have my energy back I can move on and starting looking for other people. I have no clue how long it will take, but I like to think I'm patient.

I don't know what's more scary: man-eating monsters or attempting to find people who are of sound mind right now.

Hopefully I find out soon. Signing off-

Norman.


End file.
